


Petrichor

by Cats_Dont_Float



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (it's not really mentioned but yeah autistic dirk), Autistic Dirk Strider, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Sburb (Homestuck), Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cats_Dont_Float/pseuds/Cats_Dont_Float
Summary: The smell of rain drifts into the house in the middle of the night, and wakes Dirk up, reminding him of worse times. Luckily Jake knows how to help him process things.
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Petrichor

The moon’s up, hanging lazily in the dark sky with stars glittering around it, casting just enough light onto the jungle below for Dirk to be able to just about make out the shapes of treetops from where he’s stood by the window. The window itself is open, just halfway, enough to let a breeze in but not quite enough for any of the jungle’s particularly nasty creatures to come in seeking shelter from the outside, and the net curtains sway gently with the cool air that creeps inside and ghosts its way across Dirk’s warm, clammy skin, providing relief for just a few short seconds with each gust. And beyond it all, beyond the sounds of soft wind amongst tree branches and occasional animal calls, there’s the gentle, continuous rhythmic pattern of raindrops hitting the roof and the ground around them.

The scent of the jungle’s being carried in on the wind, familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time: the smell of rotting leaves and dirt and water and animals all mixed up into one and diluted by the clean fresh air into one welcoming, gentle scent. It’s not dissimilar to the way Jake smells, when Dirk’s brave enough to curl up close enough to press his nose into Jake’s hair and just breathe him in for a while, though there’s always a smoky touch to Jake’s smell, from years of handling guns, Dirk assumes. But there’s another smell on the wind tonight, something deeply familiar and unsettling. And it’s that that’s brought Dirk here, to the window where he stands, whilst Jake remains sprawled out, fast asleep on the bed behind him.

He can’t quite put his finger on what it is, can’t quite work out what’s worrying him, but something about tonight has thrown him back into memories of that time, when nothing but water surrounded him and rainstorms threatened to flood his only safe place. He’d thought it was the smell of the water and the ocean nearby, but he knows that smell well; it’s saltier, and a little harsher, and nothing like what he’s smelling now. And usually he’s better at dealing with this sort of thing, but with Jake deep in sleep (and there’s no way Dirk’s waking him, not when he looks so peaceful) and the unsettling stillness of the night, Dirk can’t quite help letting himself spiral downwards into his own memories for a second. His hands, covered by his old, black fingerless gloves that he won't go anywhere without, curl up until his fingernails are digging into the old wood of the windowsill, bracing himself against it, and he takes a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, more of that strange smell flooding his senses as he does so.

At that exact moment there’s a sound behind him, and he feels every muscle in his body tense up as adrenaline pours into his veins, hand scrabbling for a sword that’s not there. But then a large, warm hand gently brushes up his arm before coming to rest on his shoulder, and Dirk’s initial fear slowly slides away as he recognises the feeling of familiar calloused palms rubbing gentle circles into his scarred skin.

“Hey,” a gentle, deep voice rumbles in his ear as a head comes down to rest on his shoulder, and Dirk lets out a long sigh, the majority of the panic ebbing away as one of thos elarge hands drops down to rest against his hip.

“Hey,” Dirk echoes him quietly, barely daring to raise his voice higher than a whisper.

“You okay?” Jake whispers back, instantly dropping his voice to match Dirk’s volume, and he’s grateful for that. He doesn’t think he can deal with too much noise right about now.

“I, uh… yeah,” Dirk sighs.

“Mmh, no you’re not,” Jake hums softly in his ear, tapping his fingers in a slow rhythm against Dirk’s hip and leaning in a little closer, “Come on, love, it’s just me. I’ll listen. Promise.”

Dirk lets out a long sigh, blowing a few strands of hair up and out of his face, wriggling backwards slightly until he feels his back press into Jake’s chest, and then he finally speaks. “I’m fine, I just… smelt something weird,” he whispers, feeling stupid just admitting it but knowing he can trust Jake. He can talk to Jake. “It reminded me of… something,” he adds. 

He doesn’t tell Jake exactly what it reminds him off, doesn’t describe the long nights of sitting under his bed and waiting for storms to past while praying his roof wouldn’t cave in, doesn’t tell him of surviving off of a diet of primarily hand-caught fish. Doesn’t even tell him that sometimes, when it rains like this, he’s scared it will never stop, and the water will rise and rise until his lungs are full and he’s drowning in it.

“That’s the jungle, sweetheart,” Jake tells him, and Dirk shakes his head insistently.

“No, no it’s not,” he insists, possibly just a little too harshly and he instantly feels a little guilty for the tone of his voice. But Jake just moves a hand to smooth down the hair at the back of his neck and presses a kiss to his temple. He’s been more affectionate lately, Dirk notes. After all, both of them find it easier to express things in actions rather than words.

“Okay then,” Jake murmurs in his ear, and Dirk almost flinches away from the sound of his voice so close, “Describe it to me.”

He’s always been so good at convincing Dirk into talking a little, and even though Dirk knows exactly what he’s doing, he goes with it every time. He knows he’d do anything for Jake.

“It’s… earthy?” He starts slowly, “But… different. And fresh. Like the sea, but less harsh. Watery, maybe.” 

Jake’s silent for a second, and Dirk hears him draw in a deep breath through his nostrils as he tries to understand what Dirk’s talking about, then, “Oh!” It’s loud in the silent room, and startles both of them. “Oh,” Jake repeats, quieter, more controlled, “Oh, I think you mean petrichor, love.”

“Petrichor,” Dirk says slowly, letting the word roll off his tongue just to see how it feels. He instantly decides he likes it, letting the word cycle around in his head a few times until it’s blocking out most of the residual bad memories that have been lingering there.

“The smell of rain on dry soil,” Jake explains, “It’s always been a favourite of mine.”

Dirk’s glad he doesn’t have to ask Jake to explain the word, glad Jake just knows. After all, Dirk’s grip on the more eloquent words of the English language has always been a little loose, seeing as he basically taught himself every word he knows to speak. He blames that for the weird mess of accents and pronunciations that make up his speech patterns.

“Oh,” he murmurs softly. It makes sense, he supposes, the constant rain where he used to live must have smelled similar, and as he realises it he feels the last of his worries melt away from his chest, and he breathes in a little deeper, lungs not feeling quite so shallow anymore.

Jake lets out a small humming noise, nosing into the loose hair at the nape of Dirk’s neck and pressing his lips gently into the skin there, his hands still lightly holding onto Dirk’s hips.

“Dirk,” Jake whispers after a few moments, “You know you can always talk to me. Right, pumpkin?”

Dirk can’t help smiling a little at the nickname, reaching out and grasping around until he finds one of Jake’s hands and clutches at it. “I know,” he says quietly, “I know.”

“You, uh, you wanna talk about it?” He asks softly.

“I… no,” Dirk says, shaking his head, “I, uh, maybe in the morning.”

He can practically feel the way Jake smiles with his lips still pressed against the back of his neck, and he knows Jake’s always proud of him for agreeing to talk. Dirk’s still not used to having someone that actually cares about him, still not quite able to believe that he’s lucky enough to have Jake, to have all of this. 

There’s silence for a moment, broken only by distant animal cries that Dirk finally finds himself being able to appreciate just a little, and then Jake starts to hum quietly. It’s a song Dirk recognises, one Jake played on their first anniversary, and has played on dates ever since, and the sound of it instantly fills Dirk’s chest with a warm feeling. He turns his head quickly to press a clumsy kiss to Jake’s cheek, then wriggles backwards into his arms again to stare back out at the window while Jake continues to hum and sway them from side to side gently. 

“Come back to bed,” Jake whispers after a while, “We can close the window.”

Dirk stares for a second more out at the moon, still suspended in its place in the sky, and smiles faintly despite himself. “No,” he says softly, turning to look up at Jake, who’s eyes seem to glow a little in the moonlight, “No, let’s leave it open.”

Jake grins happily, leaning down to nuzzle his face into Dirk’s hair for a second, before he takes him by the hand to lead him back to the bed, where they fall silently on top of the light sheets and pillows, tangling their bodies close with each others’ though it’s far too hot to make that a practical thing to do. Jake nuzzles his face into Dirk’s hair with a small, happy sigh, grip on Dirk’s waist relaxing slightly as he instantly starts to drift off, and Dirk finds himself relaxing too. The sound of a bird singing distantly reaches his ears, and Dirk closes his eyes to focus on the sound with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Petrichor drifts into the room on the breeze, enveloping the couple as they both fall deeper into sleep. Dirk’s pretty sure he could get used to the smell. He’s pretty sure he could get used to all of this.

**Author's Note:**

> i do warm up oneshots to get back into writing sometime and thought i'd stick this one up... for this one i just sorta challenged myself to write a oneshot with my favourite word as the title (is having a favourite word something that everyone does or is that just me???)


End file.
